Once thou hast honor'd, honor once again Thy priest, nor let his second vows be vain; But from th' afflicted host and humbled prince Avert thy wrath, and cease thy pestilence." Apollo heard, and, conquering his disdain, Unbent his bow, and Greece respir'd again. Now when the solemn rites of pray'r were past, Their salted cakes on crackling flames they cast; Then, turning back, the sacrifice they sped; The fatted oxen slew, and flay'd the dead; Chopp'd off their nervous thighs, and next prepar'd 631 T'involve the lean in cauls, and mend with lard. Sweetbreads and collops were with skewers prick'd About the sides, inbibing what they deck'd. The priest with holy hands was seen to tine The cloven wood and pour the ruddy wine. The youth approach'd the fire, and, as it burn'd, On five sharp broachers rank'd, the roast they turn'd: These morsels stay'd their stomachs; then the rest They cut in legs and fillets for the feast; 640 Which drawn and serv'd, their hunger they appease With sav'ry meat, and set their minds at ease. Now when the rage of eating was repell'd, The boys with generous wine the goblets fill'd. The first libations to the gods they pour, And then with songs indulge the genial hour. Holy debauch! till day to night they bring, Meantime the goddess-born in secret pin'd: Nor visited the camp, nor in the council join'd; But, keeping close, his gnawing heart he fed With hopes of vengeance on the tyrant's head; And wish'd for bloody wars and mortal wounds, And of the Greeks oppress'd in fight to hear the dying sounds. Now, when twelve days complete had run their race, The gods bethought them of the cares belonging to their place. Jove at their head ascending from the sea, A shoal of puny pow'rs attend his way. 670 Then Thetis, not unmindful of her son, Emerging from the deep, to beg her boon, Pursued their track; and, waken'd from his rest, Before the sovereign stood a morning guest. Him in the circle, but apart, she found; The rest at awful distance stood around. She bow'd, and ere she durst her suit begin, One hand embrac'd his knees, one propp'd his chin. Then thus: " If I, celestial sire, in aught Have serv'd thy will, or gratified thy thought, 686 One glimpse of glory to my issue give, Grac'd for the little time he has to live. Dishonor'd by the King of Men he stands; His rightful prize is ravish'd from his hands. But thou, O father, in my son's defense, Assume thy pow'r, assert thy providence. Let Troy prevail, till Greece th' affront has paid With doubled honors, and redeem'd his aid." She ceas'd, but the consid'ring god was mute: 689 Till she, resolv'd to win, renew'd her suit; Nor loos'd her hold, but forc'd him to reply: "Or grant me my petition, or deny. Jove cannot fear: then tell me to my face That I, of all the gods, am least in grace. This I can bear." The Cloud-Compeller mourn'd, And, sighing first, this answer he return'd: "Know'st thou what clamors will disturb my reign, What my stunn'd ears from Juno must sustain? In council she gives license to her tongue, Loquacious, brawling, ever in the wrong. 700 And now she will my partial pow'r upbraid, If, alienate from Greece, I give the Trojans aid. This heard, the imperious queen sate mute with fear, Nor further durst incense the gloomy Thunderer. Silence was in the court at this rebuke, Nor could the gods abash'd sustain their sov'reign's look. The limping smith observ'd the sadden'd feast, And hopping here and there (himself a jest) 769 Put in his word, that neither might offend; To Jove obsequious, yet his mother's friend: "What end in heav'n will be of civil war, If gods of pleasure will for mortals jar? Such discord but disturbs our jovial feast; One grain of bad embitters all the best. Mother, tho' wise yourself, my counsel weigh; "Tis much unsafe my sire to disobey. Not only you provoke him to your cost, But mirth is marr'd, and the good cheer is lost. Tempt not his heavy hand, for he has pow'r 780 790 I would not see you beaten; yet afraid When I and all the gods employ'd our pow'r To break your bonds: me by the heel he drew, And o'er heav'n's battlements with fury threw: All day I fell; my flight at morn begun, And ended not but with the setting sun. Pitch'd on my head, at length the Lemnian ground Receiv'd my batter'd skull, the Sinthians heal'd my wound." THERE liv'd, as authors tell, in days of yore, A widow somewhat old, and very poor: Deep in a dell her cottage lonely stood, Well thatch'd, and under covert of a wood. This dowager, on whom my tale I found, Since last she laid her husband in the ground, A simple sober life in patience led, two, To bring the year about with much ado. 10 The cattle in her homestead were three For no delicious morsel pass'd her throat; And never went by candlelight to bed. Than all the Ptolemies had done before: When incest is for int'rest of a nation, 'Tis made no sin by holy dispensation. Some lines have been maintain'd by this alone, Which by their common ugliness are known. Ardent in love, outrageous in his play, 90 Solus cum sola then was all his note. It happ'd that perching on the parlor beam, Amidst his wives, he had a deadly dream, Just at the dawn; and sigh'd, and groan'd so fast, As ev'ry breath he drew would be his last. Dame Partlet, ever nearest to his side, Heard all his piteous moan, and how he cried For help from gods and men; and, sore aghast, 100 She peck'd and pull'd, and waken'd him at last. "Dear heart," said she, "for love of heav'n declare Your pain, and make me partner of your care. You groan, sir, ever since the morning light, As something had disturb'd your noble sprite." "And, madam, well I might," said Chanticleer, "Never was Shrovetide cock in such a fear. With broader forehead, and a sharper snout. Deep in his front were sunk his glowing eyes, That yet methinks I see him with surprise. Reach out your hand, I drop with clammy sweat, And lay it to my heart, and feel it beat." "Now fie for shame," quoth she, "by heav'n above, 130 Thou hast for ever lost thy lady's love; How dar'st thou tell thy dame thou art afeard? Hast thou no manly heart, and hast a beard? "If aught from fearful dreams may be divin'd, They signify a cock of dunghill kind. The dominating humor makes the dream. With laxatives preserve your body sound, And purge the peccant humors that abound. I should be loth to lay you on a bier; 170 "Two sovereign herbs, which I by prac tice know, And both at hand, (for in our yard they grow,) On peril of my soul shall rid you wholly 180 |